


To Be Human Is To Be With You

by imisshim



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel Stays (Supernatural: I'm No Angel), Dean loves Castiel so fucking much wow, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s09e01 I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here, First Kiss, Fluff, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Gadreel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester, you know how it should have been?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imisshim/pseuds/imisshim
Summary: With Sam nearly healed up from the bad after effects of the failed third trial, Dean takes off to Colorado to find Cas— now human and utterly hopeless of ever returning back to Heaven, and bring him back to the bunker where he belongs. Permanently.Or, Sam never has to get possessed by Gadreel after failing to close the gates of Hell, therefore Dean makes a move on human Cas like he would have smh.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 29
Kudos: 224





	To Be Human Is To Be With You

**Author's Note:**

> Dean Winchester would have POUNCED on human Cas if the writers hadn't refused to let them be around each other, and I stand by that! I rated this mature for the sole reason that Dean makes an accidental anal reference so just- yeah, take from that what you will and enjoy!

Dean didn’t know how many hours he spent sitting there, hunched over the bunker’s tables with his back in knots and computer screens sprouting dots of color in his vision. 

It had probably been days, exhaustion making every minor movement feel like a whole body effort. He had two laptops open, a police scanner standing up to his right, and a beer in hand, clicking away article after article.

Meteor shower. Strange lights. Craters in the ground. 

Close. Dean knew he was close, but in the end it was Cas who found Dean, calling from some payphone in the middle of nowhere.

Dean picked up the unknown number with a frown, voice rough, “Who is this?”

“Dean.”

That one word sent Dean straightening up in his chair, swallowing a wave of choking relief. “Cas? S’ that you?”

He knew it was. That voice, that presence, the very shape of Dean’s name on his lips bringing Dean enough comfort to close both laptops with a soft click. He turned the police scanner off, scooting his beer to the side.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“What the hell is going on, man? Where are you?”

“Metatron tricked me,” Cas said, regret already making his voice shake. “I’m sorry, Dean. It wasn’t angel trials, it was a spell. I wanted you to know that—”

“You don’t have to apologize. There’s nothing to apologize for just... where are you? Sam had a close call and I—” Dean swallowed, heart jolting in his chest, eyes closing. He curled his hand into a fist. “ _We_ could really use you here.”

“I can’t.” Cas sighed.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Dean demanded, the panic in his limbs forcing heat into his voice, a misplaced anger he couldn’t control. “Haven't you heard my prayers? I’ve been praying to you all night.”

“Dean,” Cas said softly, apologetic in a way that told Dean _yes._ Yes, he’d heard his prayers. Of course he had. “Metatron— he—” There was a weariness in his tone that set Dean in unease, stomach tensing. “He took my grace.”

There was a beat of silence, Dean staring off at a spot on the wall with his mouth ajar, tongue running dry.

_Human._

“What?” Dean asked heatedly.

_Cas was human._

“Don’t worry about me,” Castiel said sharply, pushing past the topic as fast as possible. “How’s Sam?”

“Uh, he was touch and go there for a while,” Dean looked past the library towards the map room, half expecting Sam to stumble in from the hallway. “I ended up taking him to the hospital.”

“But he’s alright?” Cas pressed, the urgency in it making Dean shake his head as he stood up.

Leave it to Cas to worry about every other goddamn person but himself. Dean couldn’t tell much of a difference yet, but human Cas seemed to be just as idiotic as regular Cas, his carelessness infuriating. It was a shame he seemed just as selfless too, going on about Sam when he was lost and alone, his family spewed across the planet.

Dean couldn’t even be mad at him.

“Sam’s fine, Cas. We’re both back at the bunker. Now can you tell me where you are? I’m coming to get you.”

Cas hesitated. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Dean stopped mid stride, phone propped up with his shoulder, hands filled with laptops and beer. He started walking again just a second later, setting his things down in the map room, but his face was set with a permanent frown now.

Dean grabbed the phone again, holding it comfortably. “What are you talking about?”

“I met one of the angels who fell. She seemed like she needed guidance and I… I wanted to help her— I _tried_ but she turned on me,” Castiel explained, and Dean didn’t know whether he was just looking for it now, wanting to believe, but he could have sworn there was something different about Cas.

The guilt in his words felt deeper, heavier with a sincerity that hadn’t been achievable before. He sounded tired too. Worn down and bled dry of emotion, sad in a quiet sort of way that fit Cas perfectly.

Emotions. He was feeling emotions. The same kind of feelings Dean woke up with and dreamed with and drowned in eventually, over and over again.

Dean wondered how it felt for Cas. He hoped he could—

“The angels are blaming me for what’s happened. I’m being hunted.” 

Dean forced the thought away, sobering up immediately at Cas’s words. He started the trek to his room, pushing past his door stoically to grab for the duffle under his bed.

“Then that’s even more of a reason to get you the hell out of Dodge and fast. Tell me where you are.” Dean said, making sure to listen carefully even as he chucked a couple shirts and a pair of jeans into his bag, searching for underwear.

“Longmont, Colorado. I’m… outside a laundromat.” Cas replied, sounding confused.

Dean stuffed the pistol he kept under his pillow into the back of his jeans and zipped up his duffle. He pulled his door closed on the way out.

“Alright, it’s gonna take me a few hours at the least. You gonna be okay for that long?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Cas,” Dean stopped short of Sam’s room, suddenly worried. He willed his pulse to calm down, voice lowering, “I’m begging you— for once, look out for yourself. No more helping angels. Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody.”

“They can’t all be vengeful, Dean. I have allies. Angels who still have faith in me,” Dean wasn’t sure who Cas was trying to convince, but it was hard with how breathless he sounded, every word grating along his throat. “What about them? Am I supposed to just abandon them all?”

“Damn it, Cas. Are you hearing yourself? There’s a war on, and it’s on you,” Dean gritted. “You said you lost your grace, right? That means you’re human. That means you bleed and you eat and you sleep— all the things you never had to worry about before!”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean knew he sounded frantic, maybe even a little unhinged. But when it came to this— Cas by himself, human and targeted by every angel on Earth, there was too much at stake. Human Cas meant no powers, no healing, no special mojo that never seemed to stop Dean from shielding Cas anyway, stepping in front of raised guns that they both knew did nothing to him.

Cas, for the first time, was just as vulnerable as the Winchester’s. Just as likely to bite it early, and Dean couldn’t stand to stay in the bunker a minute longer.

“You better be by the time I get there,” Dean warned, though the fondness in his voice might have been a bit too telling. Cas smiled through the phone. “Be careful.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean listened as Cas hung up, heart sinking. He stood there for a few seconds, shifting idly, until eventually he pocketed his phone with a sigh and walked the rest of the way to Sam’s room.

“Sammy!” He banged on the door loudly, palm flat rather than curled. When there was no immediate response, Dean groaned and pushed his way inside anyway, “Yeah, okay—”

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam jolted up in bed, hair tousled and eyes squinted, rubbing at his face. He must have actually been sleeping, Dean thought. Damn. “I didn’t even say you could come in.” 

“Tough shit,” Dean smiled dumbly, tight lipped and fake before adding calmly, “I found Cas.”

Sam blinked at him with wide eyes, not expecting Dean’s bluntness. He sat up with a grunt and brushed his hair back with two large hands, trying to hide his sniffling.

“You did? Is he alright?”

“He’s in Colorado dealing with some angel crap. I gotta go get him before he gets himself killed, so,” Dean lifted his duffel bag as explanation, shrugging. “You good staying here by yourself?”

Sam made a puzzled face, head shaking. “I can come with you.” He protested immediately, throwing the blankets back to stand.

Dean watched from the doorway as Sam stood, wavered, and fell back on the mattress ass first with a fist pressed to his mouth, brows knitted together. Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his bag to the floor, stepping further inside.

“ _You_ can’t even leave your bed without getting nauseous. You’re staying, tough guy,” Dean smirked. He grabbed the glass of water he’d set on Sam’s bedside earlier that day, handing it over. “Deal with it.”

“Fine, just—” Sam gulped down the rest of the water without even finishing, spilling a little on his shirt. “Go save Cas, or whatever.”

Dean bit back a laugh, eyes crinkling as he took the empty glass back and patted his brother on the shoulder.

“Call me if you need anything.” He said, attempting to pull the blankets back over Sam who slapped his hands away.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam grumbled, pouting. 

He was already half asleep by the time Dean made it out the door.

…...

Dean didn’t really know what he was expecting to see as he pulled up to the only laundromat in Longmont, but finding Cas barreling it out with some old lady just outside the entrance definitely wasn’t something he’d been prepared for.

Either way, Dean was laughing by the time he was out of the car and jogging across the parking lot to the front door. 

“Hey, Cas!” He called out, lifting an arm to try and get the other’s attention. “The hell are you doing, man?”

It wasn’t until Cas stepped forward, unsheathing something from his sleeve and _attacking_ that Dean realized what was actually happening. He stopped dead in his tracks, hand moving to the gun at his hip just as the woman threw her head back and screamed.

The old woman exploded in a light of blue, the angel blade driven straight through her stomach. Cas drew away from the light, head turning to the side rather than staring dead on like Dean had seen him do time and time again.

_Human,_ Dean thought numbly, watching from only a few feet away as Cas pulled his blade out and the woman crumbled to the ground by his feet.

Their eyes met over the dead body, Cas’s fluttering with relief.

“ _Dean._ ”

“Hey, buddy,” Dean smiled, hardly even blinking when Cas crossed the space between them to embrace Dean warmly, forcing his chin onto Dean’s shoulder. 

The moment didn’t last long, but Dean reveled in it anyway, eyes closing briefly, an ache in his heart spreading. He had to take a deep breath when they finally pulled apart, arms falling limp by his sides. And then Cas was right there in full view, looking up at Dean like he had all the answers, eyes shining in a way Dean didn’t think they did when he was an angel. 

Dean couldn’t help it. He knew he was grinning ear to ear. He raised a hand and brushed a finger over Cas’s stubbly cheek like he’d done in Purgatory, eyebrows raising in surprise at how much had grown in just a few days.

“Look at you, rockin’ the peach fuzz again.” Dean said playfully, dropping his hand to squeeze at Cas’s shoulder.

“It’s not like I have much say in the matter.” Castiel murmured, forcing Dean’s smile away along with his hand, no longer amused.

And then, because Dean wasn’t thinking about anything but wiping that look off Cas’s face, he shrugged and said, “I think it looks good.”

Which— true. It was true. But Dean didn’t need Cas to know that.

Cas stared at Dean owlishly, features flickering between confused and flattered before tightening altogether, a deep rooted blush flooding to his cheeks. It was hard to see with the facial hair blocking the way, but Dean could see it rise up the bridge of Cas’s nose anyway, slithering towards his ears.

Dean felt a flutter in his rib cage, laughter rising out of him. “Oh, wow, you’re—”

“I’m what?” Cas swallowed, but god there was no way he didn’t know what was happening with how red his face was getting, the color of it hot enough to have Dean waving it off just for Cas’s sake.

“Nothing. Nothing, uh— where are your clothes?” Dean rubbed at his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, urging his smile away to instead focus on what the hell Cas was wearing.

Not only was his trench coat gone, but his suit and tie were too. He was even wearing tennis shoes, these ancient looking things that had dried mud stuck to the laces and a rip at the toes. Dean could see all the way through to Cas’s socks.

Cas looked down at himself, hands smoothing over the front of his maroon hoodie.

“I was going to clean them, but I only had so much money and I was thirsty,” He said quietly, staring through the laundromat window to frown at the vending machine inside. “Dehydration. Such a strange human sensation. Very unpleasant.”

“Where did you get those?” Dean asked, broadly gesturing to all of Cas.

“I’m not proud of it but... I stole these.”

Something told Dean that Cas wouldn’t have felt guilty about stealing a few days ago. He would’ve known it was wrong. Dean had taught him that much about humanity. But it wouldn’t have given Cas the same grief that it was now, newly human and inexplicably lost. 

Dean looked at Cas silently, wishing he knew more. Wishing he didn’t have to _guess_ whether Cas being human meant something he didn’t dare speak out loud could be possible. 

“Okay,” Dean said, struggling. “It’s okay! Look, we gotta get out of here before someone sees this body. You mind showing me where your clothes are?”

Cas looked confused all while leading Dean inside and pointing out a singular washing machine in the far corner, but he didn’t choose to speak up about it until he saw Dean hurriedly opening up the machine to drag his clothes out.

“Why are you taking my clothes?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

Dean slammed the washing machine door shut, fixing Castiel an incredulous stare. He couldn’t respond for a minute, uncertain what to say. There wasn’t an explanation for having sentimental value for a fucking trench coat was there? 

Fuck.

“Because you’re Castiel and these are your clothes— I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air when Cas’s furrow only deepened. He hastily started searching for his wallet, needing an excuse. “Here, go get you a candy bar or something. You must be starving.”

Dean slapped a five dollar bill into Cas’s hand, the sound of it crumbling loud in the quietness. He turned back around to finish folding up Cas’s clothes before the other could respond, missing the way Cas stared down at the money in slight offense, mouth opening in shock.

“Are you trying to divert my attention from you?” Cas asked blankly, so serious it was downright painful, Dean’s stomach aching with amusement that went straight to the skin around his eyes.

_Never._

Dean smiled softly, clearing his throat.

_Keep your eyes on me. Please._

“Cas, just go get some friggin’ Milk Duds or something. We’re on a time crunch.” Dean said.

“Which is why you’re getting my clothes,” Cas deadpanned, clearly annoyed. Dean cocked his head at him, making Cas turn on his heel in defeat with a quiet, “I’m going.”

They sped out of the parking lot just as the first blare of sires started off in the distance, the sight of red and blue in the rear view mirror making Dean laugh while Cas looked past the back seat nervously, bottom lip wringing between his teeth.

“We’re fine. We got out of there just in time.” Dean said, surprised when his attempt at comforting actually seemed to work. Castiel turned back around in his seat, facing forward.

It turned out Cas had gotten a sleeve of Nutter Butter rather than a box of Milk Duds, and Dean spent a whole five minutes enthusing about how Cas missed out on the superior snack before inevitably reaching his hand across the seat, silently asking for a bite.

Cas looked close to refusing him, a mischievous smile pulling at the seam of his lips, but there was really no debate. Cas handed a few pieces to Dean, fingers brushing over the palm of his hand.

“These are good.” Castiel said after a while of silence, the two of them eating quietly with their eyes ahead.

There was a cassette playing somewhere in the background, an arrangement of guitars that Dean suddenly had no interest in as he glanced at Cas in the passenger seat, his face a haloed glow of passing headlights.

Dean felt his breath catch in his throat, eyes growing wet.

A conversation started up eventually. Cas read out the ingredients on the back of the Nutter Butter package with squinty eyes, helplessly intrigued, and Dean listened with a smile on his face, oddly at peace when the topic of peanut butter came up like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Cas didn’t say anything when Dean finally pulled into a motel. Dean just turned off the ignition, dragged his duffel from the back seat to the front, and Cas was already getting out of the car without a word.

The man at the front desk gave the two of them odd looks as they signed in, and if Dean hadn’t thought they both looked like microwaved crap then he probably would have said something about it. Instead he just checked them in under some fake name, slapped down a handful of cash, and winked at the man as he left with a hand on Cas’s shoulder, leading him away.

“You don’t mind do you?” Dean asked as they stepped into their shared room, figuring he should at least act like he’d be willing to hit the road again tonight if Cas really wanted to.

But Cas, as usual, didn’t disappoint. He sat down on one of the two beds and smiled over at Dean, hands folding across his lap.

“Of course not,” His gaze on Dean was practically soft enough to feel, featherlight and delicate even as it burned down Dean’s skin, traveling up his figure. “You know how much I enjoy your company. Our time together.”

Dean stopped with his hand raised, halfway to turning on the lamp between their two beds. It was a physical pain this time, all consuming, battling it out somewhere inside him where hiding wasn't an option. 

His heart had never felt as fucking full then it did right then. Seared apart, bleeding out— but _full,_ bursting around the edges with warmth, needing and needing desperately.

Dean closed his eyes and dropped his hand, wading through the room in darkness. The last thing he needed was to shine any light on the heat rising to his face. 

“Have you even slept at all yet?” Dean stripped his jacket off and threw it over the nearest chair, trying to act like his hands weren’t buzzing to reach out.

“No,” Cas murmured. He looked back at the bed he was sitting on. “I’m… anxious to try, to tell you the truth.”

Dean finished folding his jeans up and looked over at Cas, expression guarded, uncertain as to what he’d see there. It was about what he expected; Cas, troubled and folding in on himself, fingers weaving together, shoulders caved.

“It’s been days, Cas,” Dean sighed, the usual bags under Castiel's eyes impressively dark, the age in them endless. When Cas didn’t respond, Dean softened, feet moving all on their own until he was sitting next to Cas and asking, “Scared you’ll have nightmares?”

“I’ve always had plenty of things to have nightmares about. It’s just never really mattered until now.”

Dean stared at the floor. “I’ll watch over you. Make sure you’re okay.”

“That’s supposed to be my job,” Cas let out something similar to a laugh, but without the amusement. Without the joy, the sound of it sucking all the air out of the room. “Without my grace I’m not much use to you and Sam, am I?”

Dean flinched, eyes snapping upwards. “Cas—”

“I might as well just take my chances with the angels, see if they’ll forgive me for everything I’ve done. If I can’t help you and Sam then there’s no point in me even being here on Earth,” Castiel turned to Dean with pain mangling his features, a sight that shocked Dean for just how _human_ it appeared. “Dean, I— I shouldn’t have called you. This isn’t your war and I dragged you in it. I got you involved in matters that don’t involve you _again_ for my own selfish reasons and I—”

“You’re not thinkin’ straight, man,” Dean interrupted, refusing to believe what he was hearing. “You’re not— you don’t mean that. You don’t seriously think—”

“Without using my powers, when have I ever done something useful for you?” 

It’s the way he asked it that strung Dean up, made his throat get tight. So certain, so set on his own failures— there wasn’t a speck in Cas that thought Dean was going to have an answer, and as a result of that… Dean didn’t.

All he could do was stare at Cas in complete shock, eyes searching frantically for a sign, some indication that Cas wasn’t serious, but there was nothing. Cas stared back, blinking through tears, and there was _nothing._

Dean had fucked up somewhere. Cas had no idea just how precious he was, how irreplaceable, how _loved—_ and _Dean_ was the one who had let that happen. Somehow, someway, and instead of getting pissed at himself it was easier to just get pissed in general.

“You are more to us than a meat suit full of angel juice you dick,” Dean snapped. “None of that matters, that’s never been what mattered,” Cas was looking at Dean now, waiting for him to continue, but Dean didn’t. All he said was, “I thought I told you that.”

And then they were both at a loss, a memory drifting between them, silencing them. Dean could still feel the weight of Cas’s gaze, the nothingness that had been looking down at him in the crypt when Cas had beaten him to a bloody stain, angel blade in hand, heart somewhere else entirely.

Dean looked down at the pale blur of his own hand in the darkness. Remembered how it had felt to reach for Cas for what he thought would be one last time, fingers curling into the thick of his sleeve with a ragged gasp as Cas cupped his face. 

Dean still didn’t understand any of what happened that day.

“I wasn’t myself when I hurt you, Dean. There's still so much I haven't told you.” Castiel admitted, catching Dean’s gaze and dissecting it instantly, meeting it with a brush of reassurance.

“What do you mean?”

“I was being mind controlled by an angel named Naomi. She was the one who pulled me out of Purgatory—”

"You already told me that, Cas," Dean frowned tightly. "I don't blame you."

"No, that's—" Castiel shook his head. "I didn't think it was important before, but now..." He cut himself off, brow pinching uncomfortably. “For you, Naomi's hold on me only seemed like a few weeks' time, but for me it felt like years. It _was_ years, and those years were spent training me to kill you. She knew you would try to get in the way of her getting her hands on the angel tablet, and so she created these... simulations, lookalikes, and had me kill them. Had me kill _you_.”

The heat fled back to Dean’s face in a senseless swarm, no amount of relief capable of stamping down the immediate swell of shock he felt course through him, blood pumping with it.

_Well, what broke the connection?_

_I don't know._

Dean stared into the carpet with a roaring heart, something hopeful dancing in his veins. He nudged Cas’s foot with his own.

“And you still didn’t kill me,” He said.

“No,” Cas smiled, voice unbearably soft. Dean would have usually mistaken that kind of tone for regret, but not with Cas. Never. “I didn’t.”

“How bout’ that,” Dean said, balancing something like awe between his eyes as he looked up and smiled at Cas with everything he had. “That sounds pretty useful to me.”

……

Dean’s hands were full.

One stayed heavy and alert at the inside of his jacket, ready to grab his angel blade if some of Heaven’s douchebags decided to rain down on them, and the other was holding onto Cas.

Holding onto his hand, to be specific. But Dean was doing his best to brush over that fact with a level mind, putting his eyes anywhere but Cas. It wasn’t fucking working. Dean’s heart rate was building by the second, his legs becoming these helplessly jittery things that made acting natural seem impossible, sweat beading along his brow.

Shockingly enough, of all the scenarios Dean had ever had of him and Cas holding hands, he’d somehow never imagined this one.

“This is— _ngh, Dean,_ ” Cas squirmed painfully beneath the needle at his hip, groaning in frustration. “I don’t understand. I’ve fought against Lucifer himself, why does a battery powered needle elicit such a response— _ah shit!_ ”

“Woah, there,” Dean pulled his hand out from the inside of his jacket, reaching for Cas’s thrashing body. 

The tattoo artist leaned back in her seat with a silent glare, lips pursing. Dean did his best to smile at her, but the feeling of Cas’s skin beneath his hands was distracting and the action came out horribly shaky. He forced out a breath, eyes trailing down to where he’d grabbed Cas by the stomach to hold him down again.

As if the guy wasn’t unbearable enough fully clothed. Now Dean had to deal with him when his shirt was rucked up, pants unbuckled and pulled down just enough for Dean to see sharp hip bones and a happy trail that made his gut lurch.

“What, you swear now too?” Dean asked, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt.

“I believe I’m entitled to swearing, Dean.” Castiel said, blinking up at the bright lights above them, nose flaring.

He squeezed Dean’s hand, seeking comfort. 

Dean squeezed right back, smiling a little as he said, “Too bad. You gotta get this done.”

“I know, I know,” Cas breathed, shaking his head. He gave Dean a look, eyes abnormally big. “Still hurts though.”

Dean snorted. “Baby.”

Cas’s smile was so sudden, so grand and so full that it nearly forced Dean backwards, the shock of it staggering. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen Cas smile like that. No— no he hadn’t. He would have remembered. He would have remembered if it was anything like this. Sweet and honey warm, all the goodness in it reaching his eyes, crinkling his skin.

He wondered if Cas could feel the difference in that smile the way Dean could see it. Like night and day, angel and human. This was _Cas_ and this was _human,_ and a single thought occurred to Dean like a match striking to life, flickering in front of his eyes tauntingly.

_How would it feel to be human with Cas?_

“Almost finished.” The woman mumbled, slowly tracing over the Enochian lettering etched right above Cas’s hipbone.

The warding should be enough to keep the angels away, at least for now. Dean could get Sam to scrounge up a more permanent solution to get Cas off the grid later, but for the moment this was all they could come up with. They just hoped it would be enough to get them back to the bunker without any trouble.

“Okay, you’re good to go.”

Castiel slowly slid off the plastic wrapped seat, his face a blatant mix of pain and embarrassment. His body looked like it was mangled to hell with the way Cas was standing; back hunched over, arms curled into his chest like he’d just been assaulted. 

“Thank you,” Cas said, then, more aware, “I guess.”

The tattoo artist scoffed and brushed past them with a hitch in her step, shoulders tightened with anger, and Dean was laughing so hard on his way out that he almost forgot to pay. 

He ended up having to turn back just short of the front door and whip out a hundred with a lovesick grin on his face, something in him practically shining as he grabbed onto Cas by the shoulder and pulled them both out into the street.

“What’s so funny?” Cas asked, eyes moving frantically just to watch Dean’s face as he laughed and struggled, body bowing forward, leaning back.

“Nothing, man. Nothing, you’re just…” 

He’d started talking without thinking first. That was never good when it came to Cas, and now Dean was paying the price. He felt his own feet stutter for a second, ears growing warm even while looking straight down at the pavement, hands hidden in his pockets. 

“I’m just what?” Cas tried.

“You’re… I don’t know— you’re you,” Dean finished lamely before shaking his head, shoulders dropping. He didn’t know what he was saying. “You haven’t changed much. I thought maybe with all that happened with Metatron, with the angels… being human. I figured you’d be different.”

It took another beat of silence, another painful second of Cas looking at Dean like he’d just been slapped in the face for Dean to realize what he’d said. Cas stopped and turned to Dean in the middle of the street, his shirt still half-buttoned, dark hair catching in the wind. 

Dean had always thought Cas was beautiful. He had the kind of doey eyes that made looking at him all too easy, his mouth a perfect arch. But Cas looked especially beautiful in that moment, imperfectly human and blindingly angry.

_How would it feel to be human with—_

“Would it be better if I was different?” Cas demanded, rightfully defensive, eyes burning blue.

It was odd seeing him like this. Acting so righteous but looking so human, features screwed into this familiar look of angelic wraith that didn’t match the wiry beard he’d grown or the rumbled state of his clothes. None of it made any sense. 

“No! No, that’s not what I— fuck, that’s not what I meant.” 

It’s almost endearing how fast Castiel's anger faded. Dean could see it leave his eyes, melt off his skin, easy in a way Dean didn’t think it could be. That was new. That was _different._ Somehow, impossibly, it turned out human Cas was even more forgiving than regular Cas. 

Go figure.

“Then what did you mean?” Cas asked gently, replacing that anger with confusion, masking that pain with the effort to understand, and Dean decided it was too much.

It was just too much.

“I don’t know, Cas! I didn’t mean to say anything, just forget it.” Dean clamped up and closed himself off just like that, jaw clenching bitterly.

When Cas was an angel, it was moments like these that freaked Dean out the most. Knowing Cas could sense emotions, feel certain energies, pinpoint _longing—_ it made Dean dread the times when his mask slipped and he’d be left staring at Cas, both of them knowing full well that Dean was more troubled than he ever allowed himself to admit.

It was hard, being vulnerable with Cas. But it was easy too. Easy in the sense that in the past Dean hadn’t had a choice. Cas had seen his soul since the beginning, understood the brokenness held inside, and he’d stayed. He was one of the few who had seen Dean for who he was, and _stayed._

“I suppose I’m not acting differently because I don’t want to worry you,” Cas said, almost too quiet to hear. He finally started walking ahead again, forcing Dean to follow. “But I do feel different, Dean.”

Dean looked up to find Cas already staring at him. “Yeah?”

“I’m feeling a multitude of things I’ve never felt before. Almost all of them unpleasant and it’s… terrifying.”

There was that honesty again, the same chest woven pain from last night that Dean had been forced to squint at in the darkness.

“I’ve always thought I had the ability to feel the way human’s felt, but now I realize that was far from the truth. Everything is so much more. Brighter, grander, but… it’s sadder too, overwhelming in a way I hadn’t been able to understand before. Even the good it’s—” His eyes lingered on Dean for a beat too long, wavering as he glanced away. “It’s all so much to handle.”

“I’m with you on that one, buddy,” Dean laughed tightly, their shoulders bumping. “It’s a lot, and that’s coming from a guy who's had thirty four years to get used to it.”

They finally stopped at the Impala parked by the sidewalk, Dean fumbling for his keys. Their eyes met over the hood, something unspoken passing between them, a comfort of sorts.

Castiel smiled at him, accepting, but Dean knew.

He had more to say.

“Listen, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, man. But all I can say is that it gets better. It does. It’s just gonna take some time, that’s all.” Dean said, somehow managing to actually look Cas in the eye as he spoke.

It was worth it, in the end. Dean’s heart might have been sinking towards his stomach, discomfort prickling his insides, but it was worth it just for the way Cas’s eyes seemed to soften.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said, and god— Dean was gone, heart flipping carelessly, cheeks creaking with a too-wide smile.

They both climbed their way into the car, Cas much slower than usual, weary of his gauze covered tattoo. It was obvious he was still in a little pain, though Dean figured it probably had something to do with the scrape on his cheekbone and the gash on his arm rather than the tattoo.

Dean had tried not to notice them before, but with Cas grimacing in pain beside him, it was becoming increasingly difficult.

The wounds weren’t too bad on their own, but together Dean could imagine they were pretty painful. He hadn’t asked Cas how he got them, and didn’t plan to. Dean knew that if he did, he’d somehow find a way to feel guilty about it.

“Alright, how bout’ we find the nearest diner and go to town on those new taste buds of yours, huh? How does that sound?” Dean asked, grinning over his shoulder as he started the car and turned back to check for traffic, hand gripping the top of the seat.

Cas smiled to himself, leaning further back. Dean didn’t miss the way the movement made his hand graze Cas’s shoulder. 

“Okay.” Cas said, giving one hell of a nod, eyes prickling with amusement.

Dean slapped the steering wheel happily. “Okay!”

Dean pulled out into the street not a second later, driving fast enough to send Cas crashing into the side of the door, hands flying out to clutch desperately at the dashboard. Dean’s first reaction was to laugh at him, his mouth dropping open to fit a massive smile, but then Cas let out this high pitched spark of laughter that made his lips curl and Dean was left struggling to breathe, gaping like a dying fish.

Even Castiel seemed shocked at himself, but he quickly replaced it with a smile. One the size of the fucking moon that made his eyes wrinkle and his gums show, shoulders shaking with delight. Dean stared at him for what felt like a lifetime, rattled and thrown into the abyss, sinking into nothingness— feeling _everything._

This was all Dean wanted. This was all he had ever wanted, Cas beside him in the passenger seat, content with simply being with Dean without the fate of the world forcing them together. Laughing, smiling, being so unapologetically human.

_How… how would it feel to be human with Cas?_

Dean thought he knew the answer.

It didn’t take them long to find a diner somewhere deep in the Colorado mountains, the green neon sign flashing _Food, Beer, And Good Times_ bright enough to see from miles off the highway. 

It was only early afternoon and yet Dean got out of the Impala to find the air much crisper than it had been that morning, the chill of it making his neck prick up.

“Hold on,” Dean told Cas, barely giving the other a glance before making his way to the back of the car to unlock the trunk. He was rifling through his duffel bag when Cas came around to stand next to him, head tilted to the side.

“Dean, what are you—”

“Ah ha! I knew I packed it,” Dean grinned. He closed the trunk and turned to Cas expectantly, the simple white cloth folded in his hands. He waited a beat, struck with a wave of sudden shyness that he forced away by throwing the scarf around Cas’s neck. “Here, man. This’ll keep you warm.”

Castiel stared with wide eyes as Dean adjusted the scarf and slapped him lightly on the chest, lips quirked upwards. Dean didn’t give Cas the chance to respond, just backed away and started walking towards the diner to avoid having to explain the sudden redness in his cheeks, his breath spilling out of him in one restless cloud.

It wasn’t until Dean had his hand on the front door that Cas finally caught up to him, his presence a gentle curl of fingers at the bottom of Dean’s jacket. Dean looked down at Cas’s hand and made his way up, eyebrows raised.

“Thank you,” Cas said, the words shaping into a whisper. Cas’s grip on Dean tightened, trembling with sincerity. “For the scarf but— but for everything else too. For coming after me and being with me while I’m… like this. You didn’t have to. You and Sam don’t owe me anything and yet you’re here. Thank you.”

A few people trailed in behind them, forcing Dean out of the way and closer to Cas, their chests brushing. It should have been scary. It should have been Dean’s knee jerk reaction to move away and apologize, but instead he stayed still and breathed in, head tilting downwards just to watch the way Cas stiffened nervously, gaze dropping to the ground.

Dean felt a patter in his chest, a distant roar that rolled in his blood. Human. It was all so easy to see now, to pinpoint without feeling guilty of having false hope. The flush in Cas’s cheeks, the bashful flicker of his eyes and wobble of his lips, finger’s folding into his palms.

All of it was human and all of it was real, undeniably _real._

“Don’t mention it, Cas.”

When Cas finally found the courage to look up, it was to the sight of Dean smiling down at him, something akin to sunlight dancing in his eyes, pouring from his skin. Dean felt a warmth bloom throughout his ribcage and weave itself around his heart, cradling his lungs in a way that whispered _you can breathe now._

_You can feel now. It’s okay. It’s okay._

Once again, Dean wondered, _how would it feel to be human with Cas?_

Dean tossed an arm around Castiel's shoulder and led them inside, stepping widely just to fuck with Cas and make him stumble. It was undeniably lame, but it was an excuse for Dean to drag his arm down and grab Cas by the waist instead to steady him, the two of them a laughing mess by the time they reached an empty booth.

There was a moment of awkward shuffling between them, Cas uncertain which seat to take, Dean nervously shifting, but eventually he decided on taking the spot opposite of Cas rather than beside him. Dean felt his nerves calm immediately, hands shaking.

It was fine. They had time for these things now. No need to push himself.

“Dude,” Dean grabbed two menus from the corner of the table and chunked one at Cas. “You think they got pie? You need some pie.”

Castiel hummed distractedly, burying his nose into the front of his scarf as he read through the menu. “ _You_ need pie.”

“Well no shit I’m getting pie, but our focus is on you right now. You’re a pie virgin,” Dean froze, realization hitting him full force. He smacked his hand on the table, “Son of a bitch, you’re a pie virgin!”

Cas made a face. “Dean, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean said smugly, eyes filling with mirth when he caught Cas smiling behind his menu. “I’m taking your pie virginity, I get to be ridiculous.”

Cas took his time ordering, eyes tracing down his menu with his teeth grazing his bottom lip, forehead creased with lines. There was a slouch in his posture, fingernails caked with dirt, but even then there was just too much about him that made Dean smile. A disheveled innocence that was adorable.

Their table ended up a mesh of breakfast and lunch, Dean going with a cheeseburger while Cas had a strong inkling for bacon and hashbrowns. The smell alone made Castiel practically double over in his seat, eyes turning glassy and bright.

The first thing Cas did was reach for the ketchup bottle at the end of the table, the same thing he’d seen Dean do probably a million times at god only knows how many diners. He even ate the same way Dean did; obnoxious and open mouthed, cheeks puffed in a way that had Dean choking on an onion ring and reaching for his coffee.

So, Dean hadn’t been the best influence when it came to table manners. Sue him.

They ate in silence, humming around mouthfuls of food, grinning dumbly everytime Cas dropped his head back dramatically at the taste. It was quiet, peaceful, sunlight filtering in through the blinds, forks moving across plates. 

Dean absorbed it all. Loved every second of it.

It was a crime having to decide on a flavor of pie for the two of them once their food was gone, but Dean went with classic apple and didn’t look back, sticking to his gut.

When the waitress finally brought both slices out to their table, Dean pushed his aside without a second thought, full attention on Cas. Dean watched with bated breath as Cas took his first bite, jaw moving carefully.

“That’s… actually delicious.”

Dean blinked. “Did you think I was lying or something?”

Cas just shrugged and reached for another bite, fork moving fast enough to rattle the plate.

“You can be quite over enthusiastic about certain things,” Castiel mumbled through a mouthful, looking up at Dean to find the man staring incredulously. Cas stifled a smile. “I was almost certain pie was one of them.”

“Well, fuck you, first of all.” Dean shrugged, yanking his plate back over with a scowl and shoveling a forkful of pie into his mouth carelessly.

Cas smiled widely, gaze painfully fond. “And second of all?”

“Second of all,” Dean said slowly, talking right out of his ass. “I’m glad you like it. Now wipe that smile off your face and dig in.”

Cas didn’t need to be told twice. There was a sort of giddiness in the way he scooted forward and rested both elbows on the table, almost like he was preparing for battle at sea rather than eating pie with Dean Winchester in the middle of nowhere.

He even finished his pie before Dean did, eating up every little crumb and piece of filling until his stomach ached and he leaned back in his seat with a groan.

“I feel… uncomfortable.” Cas complained, hands folding over his stomach.

Dean grinned. “It’s called overeating. Welcome to my world, champ.”

Cas let out a gurgling burp out of nowhere, eyes bugging out in shock. They both stared at each other with matched disbelief, frozen still until Dean erupted with laughter, the force of it crippling. Cas visibly relaxed at the sight, eyes softening as he watched silently from afar. 

“Baby’s first burp! Well—” Dean twisted his head to the side, mouth pulled into a sideways grin that seemed to draw Cas’s eye. “This day just keeps gettin’ better.”

…...

Showing Cas to his own room in the bunker held a weight to it that Dean hadn’t been expecting, an odd sense of normalcy that made it hard to breathe as him and Cas walked shoulder to shoulder through the hallway.

They weren’t in the clear by any means, Dean knew that. The angel tablet was still in the wind, Metatron was nuking Heaven as they spoke and Sam wasn’t fully healed up yet, but god— they were alive.

The world was managing without them, taking its own steps, and Dean didn’t feel guilty for wishing he could have this. Not anymore.

He had given enough. All three of them had, and all Dean wanted in return was this; Cas by his side, safe and content just down the hall from him where all Dean had to do was call his name, and he’d be there. Trench coat or not, human or angel— Dean didn’t care so long as it was Cas telling him good morning, Cas smiling at him over coffee, Cas looking at Dean like he’d rebel and fall all over again if it meant he got to have the very same thing.

To be together.

Dean took Cas by the hand before they could reach his room, pulling him along, grabbing him close. They moved further away from Sam’s room and stumbled into one of the bathroom’s, the light above the mirror flickering on just as Dean kicked the door closed. 

“Dean,” Cas sounded breathless, voice caught somewhere at the top of his throat. He looked down at his own hand held in Dean’s, expression hopeful. “Why are we in here?”

Dean didn’t know what he was doing. Never really had, but he knew what he wanted. He’s always known. He just never knew how to ask for it, how to reach out and take Cas’s hand like he was doing now.

“You’re human now, Cas. At least for the time being. Which means it’s my job to teach you a few things,” He maneuvered Cas out of the way with a hand on his hip, reaching for the razor by the sink. He held it up with a smile, “First up. Shaving.”

Cas pouted. Actually fucking _pouted—_

“I thought you said you liked it.” He murmured, staring at the side of Dean’s face while Dean gaped at the two of them in the mirror.

“I did, I— I mean I do, but…”

Castiel squinted at him. “Keeping it could be useful. Some angels might not even recognize me if I grow it out longer.”

Cas was right. He was being _smart,_ tactical, everything Dean had lost a grip on sometime between driving to Colorado and grabbing Cas’s hand, and Dean had all the intentions in the world to agree.

But when he opened his mouth, what came out instead was, “Don’t want you to.”

Too quiet. Too honest. Just the sound of it making Dean’s breath hitch in panic. He could feel Cas looking at him, waiting patiently, gaze curious. The heat of it forced Dean to continue.

“I don’t want you hiding anymore.”

“Oh.”

Dean looked up at Cas in the mirror, the closest thing he could manage to actual eye contact. There he found Cas looking exceptionally pleased, mouth slanted in this wonder filled grin that made Dean want to both bolt out the door and kiss him stupid, teeth and all.

“I want to see you,” Dean swallowed, truly pushing himself here and getting nothing in return but Castiel's dumbfounded expression. Dean sighed, moving his face forward to catch Cas’s eye. “Cas?”

“Okay,” Castiel forced out, voice pure gravel. “Yeah, okay.”

In all fairness, Dean started out teaching Cas how to shave just fine. He went in with a pair of scissors first, cutting off unruly clumps of hair that would be a bitch to get with just a razor, and the entire thing went over just fine. Dean barely even touched the guy.

But then Cas actually got his hand around the razor, and Dean’s heart fucking catapulted to his skull with worry. Cas’s grip was unsteady, movements awkward and stiff around his chin, unbearably shaky on the patch of skin just under his nose, and Dean ended up taking over with an indignant squeak of fear.

“Oh hell— okay. Bad idea,” Dean said, an embarrassed laugh bubbling out of him. He knew what this meant. “Uh, alright. I’m gonna take the reins on this one, buddy, but you make sure and watch me.”

Cas nodded enthusiastically, a drop of shaving cream rolling off his cheek and onto his chest.

Dean heaved a sigh, but his eyes were pinched in amusement, cheeks a light shade of pink as he stepped closer. The closest he’d ever gotten to Cas really, hand rising to the side of his neck as he carefully slid the razor across Cas’s jawline. 

It got quiet between them quickly, Dean laser focused and hyper aware, Cas breathing in slow and calculated, a noise in his chest catching every few seconds. He was nervous. That much Dean could tell, which was as much of a relief as it was a damn nuisance. One of them needed to be feeling somewhat sane in this situation, and that sure as hell wasn’t going to be Dean.

How many years had he been thinking about this?

Wanting it so badly in the spaces between life and death, destiny and freedom. A part of him aching for a person not in the way he was used to, not in the _you’re worth spending one night with_ way, but in the _I need you_ way. The terrifyingly complicated _I love you more than I can even say_ way that Dean had never in his entire life fallen victim to.

Not like this. Nothing like Cas.

And now it was all coming to some sort of passing, some final moment of time that Dean could feel like a declaration on his tongue, burning against the back of his teeth. It was there, it was among them now, closer than ever without the world crumbling and Cas disappearing and Dean being too afraid to even breathe. 

Things had settled. Cas was human. They were okay. More okay now then they were probably going to be in a week's time, and that’s exactly why Dean needed this. He needed this now and he needed it forever, for as long as the universe would fucking let him have it.

Dean didn’t shave Cas’s face completely. That seemed like it would be an injustice, and so he did his best to leave a light layer of tinted scruff behind. Just enough to be able to put the razor down, brush over Cas’s cheek with the pad of his thumb and say:

“Good ol’ Cas… there you are.”

Cas’s skin flared beneath his hand, warm and dampened soft, blue eyes flocking to Dean’s with purpose. 

He wanted to ask what was happening so badly. Dean could see it, like a shock in his system, a rush of understanding that made him inhale sharply through his nose and lean into the hand on his face, the hand Dean refused to move. 

Dean stammered, “Is… is this—”

“Dean,” Castiel slid his fingers up the length of Dean’s arm, cradling the man’s wrist with this look that tore Dean right open. He smiled, absolutely breathtaking and whispered, “Please.”

“Patience, sweetheart. The build up is important.” Dean teased, even going as far as winking at Cas with a charm he knew would be met with annoyance rather than infinite swooning.

Either way, the look on Cas’s face still made Dean fall forward with laughter, their foreheads brushing tentatively.

“You—” Cas looked well and truly done with Dean, exasperated to a point that his smile had slipped into an irritable scowl. Dean smiled bigger. “You are the most insufferable human being I think I’ve ever—”

It’s with his heart seconds away from bursting that Dean lifted his other hand, framed Cas’s heated face, and leaned down to kiss him. Clumsy and out of practice no doubt, noses bumping, Cas’s words dying off with this choked off noise that swelled between the heat of their mouths, but somehow Dean couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

It was Cas. All of it— the shaky hands at his chest and the brush of teeth on his bottom lip, breath heavy and uncertain, movements stiff and awkward.

It was _Cas_ and it didn’t matter, because Dean had been dreaming about this for years and god be damned if a little inexperience was going to stop his heart from pounding or his face from glowing bright red by just having Cas whimper against his mouth.

It’s Dean who had to pull away in the end. Not even for air or anything, but because Cas seemed to be a quick learner, and Dean was a little bit terrified of how good it felt just having Cas figure out how to press at the seam of Dean’s lips with his tongue, one of the hands at Dean’s chest slowly reaching down to find a hold on his waist.

“Guess that means you like me too,” Dean said dumbly, blinking and blinking and _blinking,_ trying to get his skull to stop rattling behind his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Good to know.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, the action even more dramatic up close. “I don’t just like you, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t help it. His face split apart with the size of his grin, eyes crinkling in the corners, breath catching softly at the crest of his lips. He tugged at the front of Cas’s shirt, head tilting coyly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cas breathed, heady and warm, a ghost of pressure against Dean’s lips that made Dean stutter around nothing but air. “You’re… you’re very important to me. My favorite person in the world actually.”

Dean shook on the inside, some black waste of space behind his ribcage splitting open to fill up and ache with light. Flare with hope and goodness and _Cas._ Everything in and around him was all attuned to Cas.

No one had ever said that to Dean before. No one had ever felt that way about Dean before, not even Sam. For Sam it was a given; Dean was all he knew, all he’d ever known, and he’d be stuck with him long after death. But this— Cas was different.

An infinite year old being who had witnessed space from the heavens, seen galaxies erupt and bloodlines run dry was telling Dean that he’d rather be riding shotgun with him than creating stars. And for once Dean was listening.

On the inside, Dean was on fire. Rightfully so. But on the outside, all he let escape was a single breath, a flash of relief that didn’t even begin to cover it.

“God, that’s— that’s good. That’s really good.” Dean smiled.

“Did you actually think I might not reciprocate?”

Dean’s smile dropped, a weird mix of embarrassment and discomfort making him squirm beneath Cas’s burning gaze. “I don’t know, man. You’re an angel, or whatever.”

Castiel's eyes softened with understanding, frown deepening. “I’ve never been a regular angel, Dean. But especially not since I met you.”

Another blow to Dean’s chest. Said so easily too, so matter of fact. Dean bowed his head in disbelief, warmth spreading up his spine again, tickling him with happiness.

“What about me?” Dean asked, plastering on this smirk that made Cas’s eyes fall straight down to his mouth. Dean caught him and snorted. Cas glared. “Did you know about me?”

“I had my suspicions,” Cas said carefully, uncertain as to what Dean wanted to hear. He looked at Dean thoughtfully, the shadow of a smile breaching his eyes. “It’s only been a few days but, you want to know the thing I miss most about being an angel?”

“Having a stick up your ass.”

That… came out wrong. 

It’s classic Dean, no doubt there, but with their circumstances that joke became a little less like a joke the second Dean decided to kiss Cas. Dean’s eyes widened in realization, in horror, and he dropped his head so quickly that he couldn’t even check to see if Cas understood what the hell he’d just said.

One glance upward revealed he hadn’t. Cas was staring at Dean with no problem, brows furrowed in confusion, gleaming with innocent curiosity. Oblivious to any and all anal references.

_Thank fuck._

“Being able to see your soul,” Castiel answered easily, squinting even harder when Dean let out a breath of relief. “I thought your feelings for me might run deeper because everytime you looked at me, your soul became brighter. Different then when you looked at Sam.”

Dean allowed himself roughly five seconds to freak out over _that_ discovery before locking it all away. The questions, the dreaded _did you see me checking out your ass that one time?_ look that Cas wouldn’t even understand anyway.

After that’s put away, Dean was left with an odd sort of brewing in his gut. This hint of annoyance that stung no matter how hard Dean tried to wash it away, ignore it completely.

Cas had known? That had never even been a possibility to Dean, not one time had he entertained the thought that there was more than just one coward in their equation.

“So you knew. There’s no maybe about that— you knew how I felt.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“And you didn’t do anything?”

Cas, the ever living expert on anything Dean Winchester, caught on quickly. His eyes softened at Dean’s tone, eyebrows pinching together in a way that made Dean immediately start reeling himself back in.

“Did you?” Cas threw back, not unkindly despite Dean deserving as much. “It was clear to me that you were resisting, putting it off. I didn’t want to make things harder on you by pushing my desires.”

“Your desires,” Dean repeated slowly, looking Castiel dead in the eye. Cas mostly remained calm, but damn did human Cas blush easily, the color spreading like wildfire. “Do you… I mean I’m sure you do _now,_ but, when you were an angel—”

“I’ve always wanted you, Dean,” Cas said, voice sweeping low. “Angels inherit sexual desire in human vessel’s the same way we inherit their sight and hearing. It’s something that’s always been there. It’s only now that I…” There’s something undeniably gripping about the way he looked at Dean then, eyes blazing hot, reaching right through Dean to pull at his stomach. “I’m feeling the full extent of it.”

Dean huffed out a laugh and kissed Cas before he could overthink it, needing the contact again, wanting the heat he could feel building like a cloud around them. Castiel responded so beautifully to Dean’s pressing mouth, head tilting just right, back bending beneath Dean’s wandering hands. 

It was when Cas finally got a sense of his own hands again and reached up to grip Dean’s hair that Dean finally let out a breathy moan, body contorting with a shiver that was so ridiculous he ended up pulling away laughing.

Cas glared at him, pretty mouth bruised more red than pink now, obviously frowning, but Dean seriously couldn’t believe this. Any of it.

He was making out with Cas in the bathroom in the middle of the night, both of them stinking of booze and leather with Cas freshly shaved and Dean high off adrenaline, floating— for what felt like the first time, painlessly.

“A once angel of the lord wants to bone me,” Dean said. “Wow, that’s an automatic ticket downstairs if I’ve ever seen one.”

Cas didn’t even blink, utterly monotone, “Dean.”

“You totally have the hots for me, dude.”

“Yes, to put it mildly.”

“Mildly? Don’t put it mildly— share with the class, Cas, come on.”

“I love you more than anything,” Castiel sighed, almost like it was a drag, the biggest nuisance in the world, but his eyes said differently. Dean knew differently. “Does that suffice?”

“We’ll have to work on your dirty talk but,” Dean paused to breathe, vision growing warm and hazy the longer Cas continued to look at him like that. Familiar and new at the same time, endlessly adoring. “Yeah, yes— that’s… that’s good too.”

“I don’t want to risk, um, how do you humans put it? ‘Killing the mood’?” Cas made quotations with his fingers and everything, the sarcasm in it forcing a smile out of Dean. Adorable. Cas was fucking adorable. “But, I’m very curious why it was now of all times that you decided to pursue me.”

“I’ve always been pursuing you. Sweeping you off your damn feet— that’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Dean.”

Dean stopped. Heart falling still in his chest, jaw tensing as he pressed his lips closed. Right. Dean was going to have to get better at this whole honesty thing wasn’t he?

“Cas, I— I would’ve done something the second you got back from Purgatory if it wasn’t for Kevin and the friggin’ demon tablet. Benny and his—” Dean couldn’t say it. Not now, this wasn’t the time. Benny was gone, and Dean breathed through the pang in his chest. “That’s what I’d been hoping for. That we’d get out, we’d be alive and— and _finally_ we could—”

“I wished for the same thing,” Cas was smiling now, fragile, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. “Every night with you trembling and sleeping by my feet, I wished for that too.”

Dean felt something pierce his heart and unravel inside him, making itself at home, burrowing there deep. 

Dean sighed. “We’re a couple of dumbasses aren’t we?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of having something,” Cas said gently. “It’s usually not the having that people fear, but the losing. For some it’s not worth it to even try.”

Dean knew Cas was talking about him. About _them._ He did, he knew it. And this time running from it wasn’t something he considered. It wasn’t even an option. 

He wanted his question— _that_ question, answered.

“I used to think it wasn’t but… but I want to. I want to try, Cas.”

“You’re afraid of losing me,” It’s a statement and nothing else, purely fact. Dean watched the way it melted Cas just to speak it aloud. “Even when I wasn’t certain of the extent of your feelings, a part of me always believed that.”

“I’m afraid of losing everybody.” Dean insisted.

“But it’s different now, isn’t it?” Castiel asked, and of course it was.

Everything was different.

_How would it feel?_

“You’re human,” Dean started, already heading for some cliff, some distant fork in the road he wasn’t prepared for. “You’re human, I mean— I mean you could just… and _I_ won't be able to…” 

Dean’s breathing turned harsh, eyes fogging over with panic. He could feel himself slipping, quicker than usual, hope making everything crumble twice as fast, and it’s an embrace that pulled him back. A brush of stubbly lips against his cheek that made Dean’s eyes rush up out of amazement rather than fear.

And it was there that he saw Cas.

Cas.

_Cas._

_How would it feel to be human with Cas?_

“I’ve lost you twice already. I don’t need there to be a third time, alright?”

It’s not a threat. It’s an agreement, a promise that was sealed the moment Cas bent forward and kissed Dean sweetly, the hint of a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“There won’t be. Not if I can help it, not when you’re waiting for me here,” Castiel wove his arms around Dean’s neck, the pure awkwardness in his movements making Dean bark out a laugh. “I want to be here.”

Dean was too busy looking at Cas that he almost missed what he said entirely. Almost. But then it came to him, seized and shook him like a storm, and Dean knew.

Knew he was in love. Knew that Cas was all there was ever going to be for him, this vision of light personified that could name every bone in the human body but couldn’t do a damn thing about the state of his hair. This complete tsunami of a being whose ideal way of spending a weekend was staying right by Dean’s side, simply being in his presence.

Looking and observing. Always, until now, forced to admire from afar.

Dean knew. Dean knew the answer because he’d always known.

“I want you to be here too.” Dean said, their noses bumping, eyes bright just standing there under the fluorescents, and Dean decided that was it.

That’s how it would feel. 

That’s how it would feel to be human with Cas. Whispered _I need you’s_ and desperate _stay safe’s,_ everything the same but everything different. Deeper and better but harder and scarier, the world growing with them.

_It would feel like getting swallowed whole,_ Dean thought.

_It would be so similar to how it’s always been it would terrify you,_ Dean thought instead.

Either way. 

Either way was perfect, but Dean didn’t think it would change much. _They_ wouldn’t change much. Not because they wouldn’t try, but because Dean and Cas loving each other was nothing new.

Even Heaven and Hell and the busted world in between had always known, the fragments of their feelings for one another unplanned but fundamentally incapable of being avoided, built on both light and dark, good and evil.

They were a living serendipity, a bundle of coincidences that were never meant to occur, to align the way they did. They only existed out of the sheer will of wanting to, the act of being, and that was exactly it.

Being human with Cas would simply mean _being,_ existing in their own realm of conscious thought and open hearts, and Dean didn’t think he’d ever been allowed that before.

Dean _wanted_ that, and more than anything he wanted it with Cas.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments make me cry so bring it besties and follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/holygays67)


End file.
